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blackevermore · 1 month ago

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x Tales In the Trade of Two Heirs ( Also on A03)

{ Four and Only Five }

Summary:

[Sequel to Trades In The Tales of Candy]

Years have passed since the events of the factory and those who live inside it. The small town has grown bored, if the man behind the wall wasn't going to do anything then maybe he should just leave. They thought. Unknown to them the candy man had found another grey hair, it was time to finally find an heir.

Notes: Hey....I'm starting over this book. It was shit balls that first run and now I'm older and wise and I know I can do better. And I will. Welcome aboard

Warning: (Look on A03 for the full list) None yet

Word Count: 7.2K

Taylor wanted to mentally kick herself in the ass as she marched through the wintery blizzard that swept through the town. Just because she had become uncomfortable with something she couldn’t control, she tightened her coat and buried her face in her scarf as she wandered the sidewalk. Wonka’s sex life was none of her business, hell who Wonka was before her was none of her business as well. But the way he said it so casually, he slept with people for his gain, business was truly business with him. And yet, standing in the bitter cold with the sun setting just above the horizon, Taylor felt as if Wonka was truly only about business even with her. Taylor stopped walking, stared down at her boots and closed her eyes, taking a deep cold breath and then exhaling. Her mind was racing with all her negative emotions and it was starting to drive her up a wall.

Wonka had done so much for her in the past, and she finally got what she wanted, but now she doubted it. She got him to finally crack and be with her, but now, through mindlessly talking to Jacques, this contest, and a reflection of her life, she wasn’t sure if any of this was right.

No shit it’s not. No of this was normal. Meeting him at a young age was not normal, working for him was not normal, and all the things she was exposed to were not normal! It flooded her mind how everything was just so wrong. All because she got jealous of some other lady she had never met in her life. Taylor dug in her pocket trying to fish out her phone to call Scarlet. She could feel a wave of anxiousness starting to creep up her back just as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. As Taylor was about to unlock her phone something inside of her told her to stop and just calm down. She counted to ten, took a set of deep breaths and then looked around her.

People were minding their own business and going about the normal. A sense of embarrassment quickly set in as Taylor realized she was on the brink of a breakdown in the middle of the town. Not wanting to make a new headline and be carted off somewhere, she buried her phone in her pocket and tried her best to calm down.

“He loves me. He said so. He picked me. Not them, I won.” Taylor muttered to herself over and over again and it seemed to work slightly.

At times Taylor would find herself sensitive to her mind's cruel tricks. Sometimes she would find herself crying in her room late in the hours. Accidentally causing a few Oompa Loompas to come to her aid trying to cheer her up. Poor Dave had stayed many nights awake listening to her cry and trying to comfort her. She tried her best to only have these crying fits in the privacy of her room. It was better if Wonka wasn’t aware of them, along with how often Taylor would space out.

Taylor patted her face a few times and then held her head up and continued on her journey around Cherry Street. She was looking for Wonka’s future heir.

An heir she could have easily given to him.

No no no…don’t think about it Taylor thought and tried to distract herself with window shopping. She came across a shop selling coats, and she became fascinated by a cloak that hung from a headless mannequin. It was green and had specks of shimmer in the threads that made it look like something out of a fairytale. It had fur lining the inside to help shield its wearer from the winter winds, and it even came with a hood. It ran to the floor in pools of fabric like a wedding dress. Taylor moved closer to the glass and tried to imagine what it would look like to wear it. She would undoubtedly parade around the factory like a mistress of the night, grabbing the ends and throwing them behind her like a dandy vampire. Wonka would find it annoying, but maybe he would join in on her childish fun. Perhaps he too would have a cape or cloak made and wear it in his everyday wear.

Taylor needed that cloak more than anything now. That would be her gift to herself after the events of the past years. She quickly huddled into the shop and bought the display. When she heard the price, she could already hear Wonka screaming at the top of his lungs at her for wasting his money, and it fueled her even more. She walked out of the shop wearing the cloak and her other coat in the bag. She spun around a couple of times just to enjoy the flow of it. A few more spins and the young lady had become dizzy and a laughing mess. For a moment Taylor forgot all about her worries and stress with her newest gift. Taylor had to stand still so her eyes could focus and calm down so she could continue to walk. She stumbled forward a bit more but quickly found her footing. In the distance, she could hear a young voice yelling something. She looked through the crowd of people and saw a boy wrapped in shabby clothing waving a newspaper in the air. As she got closer, she recognized the young boy as the one she met a few years ago at the candy store. As she got closer, she noticed the stack of endless newspapers and the small tin cup at the child's feet.

He was trying to sell newspapers but as the people passed no one showed any interest. With each step closer to the other, she tried to remember his name. She was aware it started with a 'c', but she couldn't make out the rest. Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the boy still trying to figure it out.

"Ma'am, would you like to buy a paper?" The sweet voice called out, and Taylor turned towards the young boy and smiled.

"Charlie Bucket!" Taylor clapped her hands together and the boy's eyes lit up. "You're the little kid I bought the candy for. Well you're not little anymore, what are you doing out here?" For a moment Charlie had to think about what she was saying, but when it came back to him, he lit up like a Christmas tree.

"You're the woman who works for Willy Wonka!" Charlie's voice rose in excitement, but Taylor quickly shushed him so no one around them would hear him. He immediately placed a hand over his mouth and apologized.

"My father's job was snowed in from the storm last week, and we have no money. I thought I could help and sell these papers to feed my family, ma'am." Charlie's fists gripped onto the paper in his hand, and he looked down a bit. From the looks of it, no one was buying a paper from him and it was way too cold for him to be out here late into the night. Taylor felt her heart drop and she placed her bag down and reached into her dress pocket. She always carried cash on her in case she didn't have Wonka's card on her. But also in case she didn't want to leave a paper trail. She unrolled the money, plucked a five hundred euro note from the stack, and handed it to him. Charlie looked in horror or unbelievable shock that she was handing such a large sum of money to him.

“Oh,” Taylor looked down and fumbled with the money again to give him a much more broken-down lot of change. “Five hundred but broken in three notes and four fifty notes.”

"I can't, ma'am, you didn't buy any papers." Charlie shook his head and pulled his hands back so he wouldn't be tempted to take the money.

"Then I'll take one." Taylor tried to give him the money again, but Charlie shook his head and refused once again. "You didn't buy that many papers. They're only fifty-cent each."

The boy's big bright eyes stared into Taylor's soul, and she knew that he was a little too humble. Anyone else would have taken the money and ran, but this little boy would instead make honest work rather than be given things for free. It made Taylor's heart swell, children weren't meant to worry about their next meal, nor were they to worry about the financial aspects of their household. Yet, here was young Charlie Bucket was more of a man than most men and he was no more than ten from what Taylor could guess. Where in the world were this kid’s parents?

It made her smile, and she nodded and put the money away and instead pulled out a fifty-cent coin and placed it in Charlie's cup. The young boy handed her the paper, and she stuffed it in her bag.

"Is it true that Mister Wonka is allowing people into his factory?" Charlie leaned in closer and whispered. Taylor chuckled, leaned down to his level and nodded.

"Yep, he feels that it is only right to allow the public back into his life. He is wanting to release a new sort of magic upon the world." Taylor lied through her teeth, but the young boy didn't need the truth, that was none of his business.

"My grandpa Joe used to work for him when he was younger," Charlie said and gave her the biggest proudest smile he could muster. Taylor knew his kid held onto his grandpa’s stories the way he spoke about Wonka. Damn, it must have been so different before the factory shut down. Wonka must have truly been a blessing to the people of this town.

"He did?” Taylor played along.

"Back when Mister Wonka owned the Cherry Street candy store over there." Charlie pointed behind Taylor to a street corner shop that was now a dry cleaner. That was so many years ago that Taylor would be amazed if Charlie's grandpa was still alive.

"He still talks about working for Mister Wonka all these years later. Says it was the happiest time of his life. Also said that he never had to worry about the hardships of anything too." Charlie was proud to tell Taylor that and that made her worry a bit. Did Wonka also sleep with this kid's grandfather? She fucking hoped not. If someone was still speaking of you years later, Taylor could only hope Wonka was not that much of a harlot to sleep with his workers….again.

"It would be amazing if I ever won that ticket, but I know that would never happen." The sadness in Charlie's voice caught Taylor's ears, and she turned back towards the boy. He frowned for a bit but then closed his eyes and counted to five. A small smile then appeared, and he raised his head again. "But congratulations to anyone who does win, you can't be sad you didn't get something, you have to keep moving on."

"You're a very humbling child, Charlie Bucket," Taylor said. The wind had picked up and made both of them shiver, Taylor wrapped more of her new cloak around her, but Charlie suffered more as his worn-out clothes didn't help much. Taylor reached into her bag and pulled out her coat. It was a bit girly and clearly bigger than him, but it was a lot better than letting the kid freeze to death. She quickly threw the coat around the boy and pulled it tight around him. She pulled at it and tried to shape it around the boy as best as she could. Quickly the chills he once had were starting to lessen and his rosy cheeks and rosy nose stood out against the green contrast.

"Thank you but I can't-" Charlie began but was cut off by Taylor holding up a hand.

"Hush kid, I refuse to let you die out here because you want to be helpful. Now go home and don't worry about eating tonight." Taylor patted the coat pocket then patted the kid's head before grabbing her bag, waving goodbye and starting walking back towards the factory.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie Bucket," Taylor called over her shoulder.

"How do you know that?" Charlie asked innocently, a twinkle of hope shining in his eyes just as the snow began to fall.

"Because good kids like you always show up," Taylor shouted back towards him and waved goodbye again.

Charlie didn't know what to say as he watched her blend in and disappeared. Charlie shivered and wrapped his arms around his body. The coat was warm and smelled sweet. He remembered the woman patting the coat and checked the pockets. When he stuck his hand in the left pocket, he felt paper and pulled out the large euro notes and felt his cheeks warm with the excitement of running home to tell his family. He wanted to thank the woman, but he remembered she was gone. Charlie Bucket smiled but felt bad, he didn't remember her name.

Charlie Bucket was eleven years old for only two more days. Though the celebration of his birthday was never much, he still held it dear to his heart. Every year, on the morning of, his mother would kiss his forehead the number of years he has been alive, plus one extra for good luck. His father would help him find materials for his diy factory, and his grandparents would sit him down and tell him stories from their days. Sometimes when the stars shined the brightest, his mother would manage to get things to make a cake. Those were the years he would cherish the most in the core of his heart. He didn't get many sweets, nor did he complain about it, but when he did, it felt like the world could be at peace for the rest of the day. As he thought about the smell of fresh cake and the taste of warm vanilla, he forgot he was standing in the snow. When the wind whipped across his face, he stumbled back and tipped off the curb causing all the newspapers at his feet to scatter. He hurried to pick them up so they wouldn't fly away.

Despite all the money the lady gave him a couple of days ago, which he had to sit his parents down and explain to him how he got it, he still made it a point to try and earn money on his own. His mother was still over the top that her son just waltzed into the house in some woman’s coat proclaiming that he had money. His father on the other hand was visibly more impressed.

“Our boy is a lady killer already, ay champ.” Charlie’s dad would tease and his mom would hit his shoulder to not encourage such behaviours.

As Charlie's little hands hurried to grab one of the papers that flew into the street, a hand reached out and pulled him back. Charlie had no idea what was going on, but the fear of nearly being struck by a car bellied in his stomach as a large truck zoomed past his eyes.

"Charlie Bucket what in god's name do you think you are doing?!" Taylor's voice was strained with fear as she held on tight to the boy; Charlie felt embarrassed for causing it. She helped the boy to his feet and back onto the curb. She dusted off some of the snow from his coat and face then pulled away to cross her arms and silently scold him.

"I understand you wish to be helpful but don't go about getting yourself killed. You didn't hear the truck's horn?" Taylor pointed to the road and Charlie hung his head.

"No ma'am," Charlie answered softly.

"I-It's okay, pick your head up, just be careful next time I don't want to be the one to tell your parents something happened." Taylor reached out and ruffled his hair then smoothed it.

"Yes ma'am." Charlie's sadness was gone as quickly as it came, and he was back to his happy little ball of sunshine. Since their first run in, Taylor had been coming back to the same spot she met Charlie to keep him company. Sometimes she would be with another woman who looked even more unpleasant to be outside. Sometimes she would convince him to go for a cup of hot chocolate at the local coffee shop, just to get him out of the snow. Charlie always happily went along and would be in awe when she got him a medium cup.

“Hey, Charlie?” Taylor said while they sat across from each other in a small cafe.

“Yes, ma’am?” Again Charlie was nothing but a little gentleman.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” Taylor teased thinking poor Charlie was going to become bashful. But to her shock, Charlie smirked and shrugged.

“I don’t think I’m the one with the issues of talking to strangers. Plus, you don’t seem capable of doing anything dangerous. I can tell.” Charlie chuckled and took another sip of his hot cocoa. Taylor was a bit taken aback by the response but was utterly impressed. Nonetheless, Charlie was happy to have the girl around; he secretly loved how she would buy him things as well. At first, Charlie's mother told him to return the girl's coat and thank her for the money. He did, and Taylor went ahead and bought him his very own. The night he came home with a brand new green coat, his mother was worried and unsure if Charlie should be allowed to go back outside by himself. It was his grandpa who calmed her nerves and told her that miracles always come and go. 'There are still a few good people in this world, dear'.

"So Charlie, besides nearly being run over, how are you this fine winter afternoon?" Taylor smiled and asked the beaming boy.

"I'm good! My birthday is in two days! And even though I know we don't have much, I want to be able to have a good dinner with my family." Charlie clasps his hands in front of himself as if he is making a wish and Taylor melts. This kid had it rough, and yet he made do with what he had and never complained. Family, from all their conversations, was very important to him, he would do anything to make his family happy. Taylor once had the same morals, but when she moved away, she became more focused on herself. Then there was Wonka who hated the idea of a family once upon a time and somehow ended up making his own small family with those he allowed into the factory. They were all weird cogs of life that spun at their own time. Charlie was a beam of light Taylor was craving through the rest of the winter.

He was funny and could come up with a snappy remark quicker than she could. When he asked questions about Wonka, she told him (the sugar-coated version of course) and watched as his eyes grew bigger and bigger. He idolized Wonka without truly knowing him. He had told Taylor of his mini factory of toothpaste caps and Taylor found it adorable. There was so more to Charlie.

"Happy early birthday Mister Bucket, how old will you be twenty-one?" Taylor poked at his cheek and Charlie puffed them out before sitting straight and puffing out his chest as best as he could.

"I'll be the ripe ol' age of twelve." Charlie couldn't hold his breath as much and quickly fell into a fit of laughter. Taylor joined him and shook her head at his adorableness. "Thank you, Miss Taylor." Charlie bowed his head and then gave Taylor his biggest bucktooth smile.

"Well, Charlie, what do you want for your birthday?" The poor boy nearly blushed as Taylor asked him such a simple question. He couldn't just ask a stranger for a gift, let alone ask for something that would be nearly impossible. Even though he knew she worked for the man he idolized, he didn't want to ask for something out of pocket. Charlie knew what he wanted. Deep down, he wanted it so bad. But that would be selfish to ask her to do that. Taylor could see the light leaving the boy's eyes slowly as he lowered his head again. It was the same face Wonka made when he became lost in his thoughts.

"Charlie?" Taylor called out, but he didn't answer, she then stuck out a hand and placed it on his cheek to move his head back up. "Charlie, what's the matter?" Taylor slowly became worried she offended him.

"Nothing ma'am, I just don't know what to ask for, the last time I got a gift was a while ago." Charlie lied, but it was better this way.

"Charlie," Taylor called out again gently from the sudden heavy feeling in her heart. "What is the one thing you want most in the world? Even if it's impossible to get, what is it?"

Charlie stumbled over his words as he tried to gather himself, "I want to meet Mister Wonka." Taylor couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips. Nor could she hide the bubbling feeling that danced at her feet and up to her fingertips. But she had to keep herself at bay just long enough to set up a plan.

"Well, Mister Bucket, that is rather impossible. I would gladly hand you a ticket for this willy nilly contest, but I don't control that aspect of the factory." Charlie nodded slowly feeling the weight on his shoulders. Taylor hated having to pretend not to have the power to make his dream come true.

"However," when the words left the young woman’s lips, Charlie perked up. "If these things go correctly Wonka might just open his gate and allow anyone in. I have a feeling you're going to be the first one in. You seem rather lucky little Bucket."

Charlie could only imagine the joy and amazement he would feel if he got the chance to meet Mister Wonka. All the stories his grandfather had told him about how amazing and brilliant Wonka was could finally be in his face, front and centre.

"Do you really think so, Miss Taylor?" Charlie was breathless with excitement.

"Charlie, I know so." Taylor leaned in and kissed the boy's forehead but quickly pulled away when she realized what she had done. "I'm sorry. I have younger brothers and you reminded me of them" She quickly covered her mouth, embarrassed that her motherly instincts overtook her. She looked around and Charlie touched his forehead and smiled.

"It's alright, mum says I have a face everyone wants to kiss." Charlie tried his best to ease Taylor's worry. It worked enough for them to pack up their small cafe meeting and head back out into the snow.

"Alright my dear boy, I have to get back to work, Wonka doesn't like tardiness. I've learned my lesson from the past." Taylor rolled her eyes and thumbed back towards the factory.

"Alright, will I see you again?"

"Yes, very soon, I won't be out tomorrow, of course, the contest is close, but after that, you'll see me much more than ever." Taylor said

Charlie wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but he left it alone as she waved him goodbye and walked away. As she got further and further away, he looked back towards the factory and saw someone standing in a window from the tallest tower. He knew it had to be Willy Wonka himself watching Taylor walk back. Charlie wondered what Taylor's relationship with Wonka was like. Surely if she worked for him, they would be the greatest friends.

Charlie had forgotten all about the bitter cold around him. The cold feeling couldn't reach the warmth inside his heart that told him that his dreams would one day be possible. Charlie had no idea there was something about him that made him special. Charlie had no idea he was a winner in someone's eyes.

Taylor had made it back to the factory and only managed to get through the door before Kyle from the shipping department came running towards her. She dropped her cloak to the floor along with her scarf and kneeled to him. The Oompa Loompa looked worn out and slightly in distress as he folded his clipboard under his arm and began to sign slowly.

"We found the crew, we also found a ticket. Wonka has been made aware." The little worker wasn’t able to finish before Taylor was quick on her feet heading towards where she thought Wonka could be. She hadn't even got to the elevator before she heard the rush of little feet moving past her heading towards different departments. Some chatting amongst themselves in their high pitched voices. Even though Taylor couldn't understand them, she knew they were all scared.

Wonka was upset.

And He was waiting for her to return, surely, it was always like that when he found something out. Taylor hated being on the receiving end of Wonka’s anger business or not. Personal or not. Taylor stepped off the elevator cautiously as she heard Wonka through the door. He wasn't yelling, but he sounded like he wanted to. Taylor pushed open the door and found Wonka standing in the middle of the docks sounding off commands through the loudspeakers. Scarlet was standing beside him, ignoring the chatter as best as she could as she looked towards the screens above. Wonka caught sight of Taylor quickly and pointed towards her.

“You,” Wonka pointed towards his assistant and beckoned her over with a curl of his finger then pointed down to the spot in front of him. Taylor walked over hesitantly, trying her best to not flinch when she saw the burning fire in his eyes. "You knew about this and didn't tell me?!" Wonka's voice rose and cracked, which caused Scarlet to turn around.

“I had it under control,” Taylor responded with a bit of confidence behind her words. “Scarlet and I-”

“My workers were ambushed!" Wonka threw the mic from his hands down to the direction table and marched towards Taylor like a bull.

"I know but the tracker-" Taylor tried to speak again but now Wonka was inches away from her menacingly.

"They were hurt!" Wonka shouted and pointed towards the screens that tracked all the shipped parcels.

"They were?" Scarlet marched over and got between Taylor and Wonka. If he was going to blow his head then Scarlet was going to take most of the blow. Taylor was only trying to do her best. Wonka didn’t care to tell Scarlet to move, hell she too could be at fault, he didn’t care. All that mattered was the Oompa Loompas.

"My truck ended up 1,035 miles away from its destination, and you didn't bother to tell me?!" Wonka's face was red, and his eyes were burning. Taylor held her breath and stiffened up, ready for him to blow his head.

"You think something like this is an easy cover up? An easy fix? No one should know about the Oompa Loompas, and yet here we are with a missing truck and missing crew. Only to find them half alive and nearly freezing to death!" She knew how much he cared for the Oompa Loompas.

"All because you thought you could fix this!" Wonka shot his eyes between the two young women and stomped his foot in a fit of rage.

"You get any closer, and I promise you your temper will be the last thing she'll have to worry about." Scarlet stepped towards him, which caused him to jump back. Little red dots shot from the walls and onto Scarlet, causing Taylor to step back as well. No surprise that if Wonka was in trouble inside his factory, there would be defence waiting to protect him. Scarlet looked down at the dots and rolled her eyes, muttering out a really before stepping back as well. The dots still lingered until Taylor stepped in front of Scarlet, they then all dropped and vanished.

“I stepped in when I was asked to and I handled the situation as best as I could. I was not informed that the crew was hurt, I care for them just as much as you do so do not stand here and try to yell and belittle us because for once I thought I could take some stress off of you." Taylor could feel her chest growing heavy and her throat starting to swell as she tried to stand up to Wonka. This was terrifying considering just a few moments ago Scarlet could have been shot down. She was shaking and Wonka quickly noticed and stepped back again.

"I'm sorry, I'm just stressed out, they were hurt and..." Wonka wasn't good at apologizing or explaining himself.

“They are your family, Wonka, I know this and I would never hide anything from you that would harm your family.” Taylor reached out and touched Wonka’s shoulder and the man flinched away. Taylor pulled her hand away, hurt by his action but gave him his space.

"I understand." Wonka looked away and then towards the workers who had stopped to see what was going on. He turned back to Taylor and bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry." He whispered. Taylor nodded and looked at Scarlet who huffed and waved the whole thing off. Taylor then stepped around Wonka to the soundboard and grabbed the tablet to see the newest information on the found crew.

"How are they?" Taylor asked.

"Stable. They were freezing, minor injuries, but you know they can't handle the cold." Wonka spoke up and moved a bit closer to Taylor but not enough to cause an awkward feeling.

“What about the ticket?” Taylor clicked on the message about a new ‘x’ on the map.

"Russia," Scarlet called out and pointed towards the middle screen with the world map with a giant red flashing 'x' over the country of Russia. "It was an ambush."

“By whom?” Taylor asked aloud.

“I have my reasons to believe it was by someone who wants to send me a message.” Wonka took the tablet from Taylor and tapped it a few times. A few files of individuals from Russia that Wonka had worked with in the past or were current low radar threats flashed on all three screens. Most of them were men with basic information and last known whereabouts. As Taylor looked through the pictures a picture of a beautiful icy blonde hair hazel-eyed woman flashed upon the middle screen.

Wonka saw the way Taylor locked on the picture of the woman and looked back up to see it was Mara Piker. He had a strange feeling Taylor was hooked for all the wrong reasons so he zoomed in on her profile. Wonka hadn’t narrowed down who it could be as of yet but if Taylor had a feeling he would secretly bank on it. When her profile flashed out on the screens Wonka's brows knotted and he let out a huff. He didn't remember Mara ever having a child that old. He checked on the tablet and saw the picture was dated for last year. Next to Mara and the child was a big round man who looked like an angry Teddy Roosevelt in a navy suit.

"Why do they look so upset?" Scarlet asked as she walked back towards the duo and stood behind them.

"Mara is as cold as a tundra and Maks isn't any better. They're not the nicest people to be around either, they always have something to complain about. From the way you count their money at the bank to the way you curl your hair," Wonka grumbled and pushed at the ends of his bob as he remembered a very rude comment Mara once threw at him. He checked the file again and finally found the child’s name. Ugh, this kid was the bane of being a buzzkill from what he kept on file.

"They don't believe in fun, and it rubbed off on their daughter, Miranda." Wonka finished with a snarl. Taylor didn't want to randomly point at this woman and her family and say they were the attackers but a hypothetical formed in her head. They had a kid who was around the same age as the other kids that won so far. But if they were so much of a party pooper why would they hijack the truck?

"Why would they want the ticket?" Taylor didn't want to know how Wonka knew them, nor did she care.

"I have my thoughts that they wish to speak with me, but I sure don't want to speak with them." Wonka tapped on the tablet again to make the map of the world returned with a menu beside it. Wonka clicked on the tracking route of the ticket and then picked an opinion that said ‘fake’. Taylor was unaware Wonka could mark a ticket as a fake this whole time. She looked between him and the tablet but said nothing as she watched the tracking number on the ticket mark itself as ‘fake’ and then be struck out from the remaining ticket list.

"There is no way they are coming to my factory either if they are the attackers." Wonka placed the tablet down and let out a sigh. He then turned towards Scarlet to say something but the girl was already turning away. He didn't stop her and just allowed her to leave. He thought it was beyond rude the way she turned her back on him. But he shook his head and made a note to speak with her later.

"Scarlet wants to visit Wilfred after this tour," Taylor said aloud once the blonde was gone.

"Not when we have to deal with this," Wonka snapped around with wide eyes and mouth hung open, he motioned for the map. "This is important, we need to figure out why someone would steal my ticket. If it is the Pikers she needs to figure out why." Wonka couldn’t believe what he was hearing from the other. A vacation really? Was Scarlet not paying attention that his workers were nearly dead and his contest was nearly ruined?

“We can handle this.” Taylor pushed on the word ‘we’ and stepped closer to Wonka.

“You aren’t doing anything, from what I recall it’s been mentioned that your stress levels have been through the roof recently. You have shitty anxiety and your levels of spacing are as worse as mine. Putting you out there would be like throwing a zebra to a pack of lions.” Wonka was not quick enough to catch himself as he revealed he knew of Taylor's conditions.

“Cev.” Wonka tried to speak again and Taylor shook her head. Annoyance visibly spread across her face.

“I am more than capable of doing my job that you gave me years ago. Just because Jacques gives you silly little updates about my therapy sessions doesn’t mean you get to bench me. You can’t bench me when there are only two of us.” Taylor closed the space between her and her boss and gritted her teeth. Wonka f felt speechless against Taylor, the aura that leaked from her was threatening that at any given moment she would lose it if she was told no.

“Scarlet will go on vacation and you will deal with it then. You've dealt with things before her and you can do it now." Taylor's voice was stern, she meant what she said, and Wonka cocked an eyebrow at her newly found determination of order.

"You don't get a say so," Wonka grumbled.

"She doesn't work for you." Taylor was right. Wonka didn't hire Scarlet, Taylor did, and Wonka was only the face of the employment. Taylor was going to have her way; whether he liked it or not, Wonka could only fight one battle at a time, and Taylor wasn't one of them.

"Fine," Wonka dropped his shoulders and Taylor’s anger seemed to ghost away as her pout turned into a smile.

"Thank you, Sir. Also, I found the last winner." Taylor said, grabbing the tablet from Wonka and about to clear the map to zoom in on their small town.

“You have?” Wonka was a lot more keen on the news than Taylor expected. Before Taylor could say anything more, a loud ping rang through the room. The ticket for North America had been found.

"The kid doesn't even like chocolate!" Wonka slammed his fist on the plush chair arm

"Yep," Taylor responded.

"He figured out the tracking system as well!" Wonka groaned and bit his gloved finger to hold in his anger.

"Smart kid," Taylor responded.

"Ahh!" Wonka yelled then fell back into his chair, holding his face in his hands. After watching the news, Wonka stormed to his bedroom and Taylor followed as best as she could. Scarlet heard them coming from her room, she poked her head out her door which earned her an apology from Taylor. The blond shrugged and went back inside as Taylor hurried into Wonka’s bedroom and closed the door. Wonka paced back and forth venting all his frustration. Taylor could do nothing to calm him down and just stood at the door.

"I'm falsifying that ticket too." Wonka finally spoke out loud and then flopped onto his bed.

"No, you won't.” Taylor retorted.

“We don't have time for that. He didn't steal his ticket plus he might not even show up." Taylor got to her boss’s bed and sat down beside him. Despite their tension earlier in the docking room Taylor still wanted to be beside him. Wonka sat up and crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler and puffed out his cheeks.

"Who's surname is Teavee of all things?" Taylor chuckled trying to distract Wonka with a joke.

"It's a stupid name," Wonka responded through his teeth and Taylor nodded. It was a really stupid name. They laughed and Wonka felt a bit better. Their laughter died down and Wonka reached out and took Taylor’s hand. She looked over to him and squeezed it when Wonka seemed to calm down even more.

"You found the winner for the last ticket?" Wonka said. He didn’t look at Taylor as he spoke. As if he was too afraid to do so, and Taylor was oddly okay with that as long as he kept talking to her.

“His name is Charlie Bucket,” Taylor answered. Wonka nodded.

"How did you find him?" Wonka was interested in the story and Taylor was more than willing to share.

She told Wonka how she found the kid and he scuffed at the idea of her randomly handing out his money to people. Taylor love tapped his arm and told him to be nice and Wonka shooed her away. She continued and told him how she just knew the ticket had to go to Charlie.

“He knows you work for me?” Wonka's eyes sharpen and Taylor quickly wags a finger in his face to get him to stop.

"Don't worry, ya diva, he didn't make a big deal out of it and rather he is very humble for a twelve-year-old. He has something about him I think would be great for the factory. Maybe even great for you. but don't randomly kill him." Taylor shook her head and Wonka huffed.

"I would never harm a child…I could never…I mean I don’t plan on it." Wonka trailed off a bit as if the world had slowed down and words became hard. Taylor snapped her fingers to bring him back and it sorta worked as Wonka blinked a couple of times but he was still so far away. Great timing to space out, Taylor wondered if that's what she did. Taylor got up from her seat and moved over to kneel and spread Wonka’s legs to get between them. She rested her head back against his thigh and hummed. Wonka slowly came out of his trance and placed a hand on her head. He stroked her hair lightly as they sat in silence.

"He stands outside your gates a lot when it is warm," Taylor spoke up again, Wonka brows knotted for a bit then cocked one as he looked down at her.

"That's the little kid that stares at the factory?"

"Hmm'yep."

"Well, I'll be..." Wonka’s voice trailed off, impressed with such a child’s dedication.

"He is kind and respectful, very witty and quick to come up with something to say. I like him, maybe he'll put you in your place. Be funny to see a grown man get owned by a child." Taylor reached over with her hand and patted Wonka's bad leg. Wonka wiggled her hand off of him and pinched her cheek.

"As if that would ever happen," Wonka paused and thought about how easy it sounded to have Charlie as an heir. If Taylor was this fond of the child then surely Charlie was meant to win. Wonka had not told Taylor that the ticket she carried was the actual winner of the factory. He knew if he told her she would freak out wanting to make sure that she chose correctly. She was always on eggshells about making sure Wonka wasn’t upset with her choice now. Which worried him more than made him stress less. He wasn’t upset that the young ladies tried to handle the incident with his workers. He was just worried that if someone found them things would become worse. Taylor was right, the Oompa Loompas were his family within the walls of the factory.

Wonka knew he had to trust Taylor when it came to her involvement. He had thought it had grown more adaptive a while ago. But it was still too hard at times to trust someone with something so delicate that he held dear. Wonka took a deep breath and thought it over, he knew he had to do better. So, if Charlie was Taylor’s first pick, then Wonka would entertain it, luckily if Charlie was not best suited then Wonka would scrap the whole contest and start over. None of those other little freaks was getting their hands on his factory and namesake.

"Well, little girl, get to work and get that boy his ticket. We have no time to waste." Wonka ran his fingers through her locs and then pulled on them gently to move her head back. Taylor was caught off guard and gasped at the sudden jerk.

"You suck." Taylor spat back.

"Careful dear, you're in my room." Wonka twirled a finger in the air around them. He then placed a hand under her chin and pulled her closer then kissed her cheek.

"Whatever old man." Taylor giggled and raised a hand to get him out of her hair.

#dark candies🍫🍬#willy wonka #oc x canon #charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf 2005 #part 4

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blogbridgekethy · 10 months ago

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Winter's Tale: Comparing Snow Totals in Peabody MA and Manalapan NJ

When the winter winds start to howl and snowflakes begin to dance, the hum of snowplows becomes a symphony, and weather forecasting becomes a passion. For residents in the Northeast, keeping an eye on snow totals is as important as checking the time. In this blog post, we'll take a deep, flake-filled look at how the winter has treated Peabody, MA, and Manalapan, NJ—two towns with a lot in common but significant differences in their winter wonderlands.

The Story of Snow in Peabody, MA

A Tale of Urban Weather

Nestled just 12 miles from Manhattan, Peabody is a bustling, urban community of over 45,000 people. Its history dates back to the Native American tribe who first inhabited the area, and today, the city is a mosaic of cultures and lifestyles. When the first snow falls, Peabody prepares for city life amidst the winter's whims.

The Influence of Boroughs and Towers

The urban landscape is a thermal tapestry of boroughs and towers, each creating its own climate. From the high rises of New York City casting long shadows on the city streets to the brownstones and business centers packed within the city limits, Peabody's snowfall can be a dramatic game of inches—where location is as crucial as elevation.

Local Legends of Snowfall

Snow total Peabody MA has seen its share of historic snowfall events. From the Blizzard of 1888 which sculpted the Northeast landscape to the Snow mage don of 2010 which modernized the snow removal strategies, the city wears its winter white as a badge of honor.

The Manalapan Quandary in Pennsylvania

A Quaint Rural Borough

Manalapan is a stark contrast to Peabody. With a populace of just over 8,900, this rural community in Bucks County has remained true to its small-town ethos, even as the region has evolved. When the snow descends, Manalapan blankets fields, farms, and forests in a silence that only the countryside can offer.

The Majesty of the Manalapan Valley

Nestled within the valley, snow total Manalapan NJ is a study in tranquility. The sprawling landscape, dotted with historic colonial homes, rises and falls as if it were a part of the earth itself. Snowfall here tends to be more predictable, with fewer natural and man-made alterations to its accumulation.

Snow - A Catalyst for Community

Snow in Manalapan is not just a weather pattern; it's a catalyst for community. It brings neighbors together, prompts the curious visit of wildlife, and transforms the valley into a winter playground. Here, people measure their winter not in inches but in experiences, each snowfall etching a new memory into the collective consciousness.

The Numbers Don't Melt: Comparing Snow Totals

Microclimates and Meteorological Mischief

Both Peabody and Manalapan may fall under a single weather report, but their snow totals can be as different as the paths of two snowflakes. Microclimates play a significant role in these disparities, as does the occasional meteorological mischief that Mother Nature enjoys playing.

Historical Context and Trends

By examining historical data, it becomes clear that each town has its relationship with snow. Trends emerge that could be attributed to various factors, from climate change to urban development, each affecting the snowfall in its unique way.

Current Comparisons and the Factors at Play

Taking a snapshot of the current winter, we see that Manalapan has received more snow than Peabody, and we probe the factors that led to this difference. From the city's heat island effect on snow's lifeline to the rural valley's near-perfect snow retention, each town's topography tells the tale.

Navigating the Next Snowfall

Predictions and Projections for winter

What the rest of the winter holds for Peabody and Manalapan is a matter of prediction and projection. Meteorologists provide their insights, but ultimately, it's a waiting game that each town plays with a weather eye on the sky.

Winter Preparedness in Hindsight

As we look back on winter preparedness, we can glean lessons from each town's approach. Preparation is key, but flexibility and community cooperation are also vital tools in the kit for weathering the storms, both literal and metaphorical.

Looking to the spring

As the snow melts and the days grow long, Peabody and Manalapan will look to the spring. They will take stock of the winter that was, brush off the snowflakes, and prepare for the next chapter in the never-ending story of the weather.

In a world where we can control so little, the story of snow in these two towns is both humbling and empowering. It connects us to the earth, to the sky, and to each other. It's a reminder that no matter how much we advance, in the end, we are all at the mercy of the weather. And perhaps that's the most beautiful tale of all.

#Snow Total #Manalapan NJ #Peabody MA

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stardustdiver · 2 years ago

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Name: Wintgeim Slafzedyrwyn (Winter Gem, Daughter of Sleeping Cedar)

Gender: Female

Age: 20 (ARR), 26 (EW)

Nameday: 9th Sun of the First Astral Moon

Hometown: Moraby Drydocks

Likes: Chilli Jam (person), Theia, Blue, Soft toys, Rum, Ocean, Grebuloff

Dislikes: Eulmore, Lolorito Nanarito, Sahagin, Leviathan

Shortly after the 7th Umbral Calamity, aged 14-15, Wint had a newfound ability, one that would more often than not get her into trouble by allowing her to learn secrets she wasnt supposed to know. As a result of these newfound abilities, she thought may aswell cause some problems along the way and joined the misfit band of pirates - the Sirens, where she meets her childhood best friend Chilli Jam, and they end up always by eachothers side and bailing eachother out of situations.

It was at this point she found herself a rapier (missing its focus) left abandoned and forgotten, she picked it up and was determined to learn the art of swordplay. Also in this time she aquires Tsukuyomi's Revolver from aboard a Garlean ship bound for Doma, and from that day onward she was determined to learn how to use a gun, so that one day she can use her loot without fear of damaging or losing it. In the meantime her loot gets stashed away in an unnamed location, to be retrieved once she has learned how to properly use her new gear.

However aunt Merlwyb (her mum Sylb's sister) wasnt overly fond of the concept that her neice was on this slippery slope of piracy, and tried to help her out. Wint however anticipated the worst result if she was caught (perhaps at the hand of rumours from fellow Sirens), and commenced evasive manoeuvres whenever Merl, Maelstrom, or Yellow Jackets were within sight.

She finally gets caught one day (aged 17) and The Admiral offers her a path: a clean slate - going to Ul'dah with a reasonable sum of money to get her going. Maybe become an adventurer, or perhaps Ul'dah has a yrade she can learn. So away she goes to Ul'dah, clean slate and a pocketful of gil, what will she do? Then around aged 19-20 she returns to Limsa and joins the Maelstrom - determined to make a change for the better.

However on one of her first squadron missions she was on a patrol mission within the area of Camp Skull Valley, when her squadron was caught by the Sahagin, and were offered to Leviathan for new thralls. Wint was somehow the only one to survive with no explanation as to why, just a lot of bad memories and a ton of questions. She is finally rescued by a second squadron and she has an arduous recovery ahead of her.

Fastforward to post A Realm Reborn, little lord Alphinaud has a new goal, and he needs members to fill the ranks. Wint gets wind of it and requests to be transferred from the Maelstrom to the Crystal Braves, where she meets the Warrior of Light themselves, and comes to learn of the echo and has many a question to ask. Ultimately she becomes reassured that her Leviathan incident was out of her hands, but also that she was not alone in experiences like this; WoL themselves had a similar incident happen to them with the Amalj'aa and Ifrit.

The Crystal Braves fall apart as they do, but like Riol, she sticks around as they are a good bunch, and she and WoL have a lot in common and a lot she still has to learn about herself; answers she will be more likely to learn with the Scions over staying with the Maelstrom.

Wint Fun Facts:

She has a scar on her forehead, many variations of tales have been told about how she received said scar, including fighting a pack of ravenous wolves, in reality she injured herself falling out of a tree as a kid.

Is fluent in the Old Roegadyn language, as Sylb taught her it because it was something she believed her dad would have wanted for her, to learn about and potentially visit his home one day.

Wint's story continues along side WoL and the Scions. Unlike Theia, her story remains just about the same - irrelevant of who is Main WoL, keeper of the Azem Stone.

#wintgeim slafzedyrwyn #wint #WoL #warrior of light #ff14 #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #i have so much story and lore on wint #shes my main i love her so much #femroe #roegadyn #female roegadyn #roegadame #sea wolf

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painted-piggy-ships-archive · 4 years ago

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Beetlejuice Rewrite 3

Beetlejuice x Edward Deetz

Word Count: 1446

Tag List: @heartstringsymphonies @heavenshipped @the-schizotypal-cryptid @ghostlyvenus

Summary: We’ve made it to probably the last canon scene I’ll rewrite; The Wedding! (+the tail end of the exorcism) Obviously Edward is in place of Lydia when it comes to all of canon her interactions with the bugman.

Warnings: Smoking, brief suggestive mention, if you’ve seen Beetlejuice before you know the exorcism scene isn’t super fun to see :o( but it’s not mentioned in too much of explicit detail I think, if making a deal to marry a ghost in order to save your friends isn’t your thing this probably isn’t the oneshot for you sgshghs ^o^”

The dining area and living room were filled with an unearthly green glow as the exorcism began, the Maitlands’ shriveled, rotting corpses floating above the dinner table in their wedding garb.

“Stop it, you’re killing them!” Lydia called out, panicked.

“They’re already dead, they can’t feel a thing…” one of the guests muttered.

“That’s not true! Just look at them!”

Seeing his daughter so upset moved something in Charles.

“Can we stop it?” He asked Otho.

“It’s too late, Charles… I’m sorry,” he responded, his tone somewhere between shocked and genuinely apologetic.

Edward had been frozen as he watched in fear, but now sprinted to the model in the living room, Lydia not far behind him.

“Oh, where are you??” Edward grumbled as he looked desperately for Beetlejuice.

“Who??” Lydia asked, brushing away brief tears that had welled up in her eyes before wrinkling her nose, “oh god, don’t tell me you’re gonna try and get him to help.”

Eventually, their eyes settled on Beetlejuice, sitting smugly atop his headstone and wearing a striking, stripey suit.

“You have to help them,” Edward begged.

“I don’t have to do nothin’. But I will… for a price,” the poltergeist gave Edward an oily smile.

“Ugh, okay, what?”

“Well, y’see, I want out. For good. But to do that, I gotta get married, specifically to someone living,” Beetlejuice lifted his hands in defeat, “not my rules, though come to think of it, I don’t have any rules.”

Edward frowned, glancing at his ghostly friends.

“Hurry up!” Lydia begged her stepbrother.

“This isn’t an easy decision to make, Lydia!” Edward snapped under the pressure.

“Hey, hey, think of it as a marriage of inconvenience. I get out, you get to say you got hitched to the most eligible bachelor since Valentino came over, we’ll be even!”

To say Edward hadn’t thought about the ghost before him in a romantic, or even sexual, way… that’d be the biggest tall tale of the century. But he was not prepared to marry him, even if they had talked a few times since they had met.

“Okay-” Edward started and Beetlejuice lept to his feet excitedly, “but we’re laying down some things first.”

The poltergeist grumbled and kicked at a clod of fake grass before looking up at Edward.

“Fffine, what is it?” He asked.

“First, even if marrying is the only way to get you to help us, we are not going to act like a married couple. If anyone asks, we’re dating. Second, I want to get to know you better before any real romance is to take place.”

Lydia stared at her half-brother as he spoke these very firm requests. The cobwebbed cogs of Beetlejuice’s brain turned as he considered the proposal.

“Deal,” he concluded with a smug expression before brushing himself off and making a “go ahead” gesture. Edward took a breath.

“Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice.”

“It’s showtime.”

The stepsiblings stepped back as the model began to shake, and soon split down the middle. Beetlejuice, now life-size, rose from the center of the crack, a carousel-like hat atop his head.

“Attention K-Mart Shoppers,” he announced in an official tone and with a manic grin, “well, I’m back, I feel real good about myself, real happy to be here, and… without further delay,”

The poltergeist cleared his throat and his hat began to spin, a golden glow coming from the crack in the model.

“Welcome to Winter River, museum of natural greed! A monument to the bored businessman, step right up, come a little closer, test your strength!” Beetlejuice spoke like a carnival barker, capturing the attention of some of Charles’ guests. They stood in front of him, unaware of the oversized strongman game behind them. Beetlejuice’s sleeves unfurled into large, inflatable sledgehammers. He raised them in the air, and with a cruel cackle, brought them down with enough force to send the couple shooting through the ceiling. By the time the dust had cleared, Beetlejuice had stepped completely out of the model and was thanking everyone for watching his little display.

“Thank you, thank you, whew!” He produced a cigarette out of nowhere and lit it with a flame from his fingertip before shooting a look at Edward, “and that, is why I don’t do two shows a night anymore babe, I won’t, I won’t do ‘em.”

Edward rolled his eyes, arms folded as he patiently waited for Beetlejuice to get on with their deal.

“Well, what have we got here tonight, kids? We’ve got the Maitlands, I think they’ve had enough exorcise, don’tcha think?” The poltergeist snapped his fingers and the Maitlands bodies collapsed back onto the table, slowly beginning to restore their youthful looks. While this was going on, Otho attempted to sneak past and escape, but was ultimately stopped by Beetlejuice jumping onto his back.

“Not so fast, round boy, we’re gonna have some laughs!” The ghost cackled before placing an exaggerated kiss on Otho’s cheek, making the man shiver in disgust. Beetlejuice disappeared and a large spotlight shined on Otho, causing his black suit to turn stark white and making himself yell in fear and confusion. Beetlejuice cackled as Otho ran from the building.

Beetlejuice turned to Delia and Charles Deetz with another grin, pulling them into a fierce bear hug.

“Mom, dad. I just wantcha to know you’re very welcome in our house,” he gestured back to Edward, “anytime you’d like to come over.”

Delia wailed upon realizing the deal the two had struck up.

“Eddie!” She whimpered, and he avoided her gaze.

“Sorry mom,” he muttered.

“Alright, Maitlands are taken care of, everything seems back to normal…” Beetlejuice mumbled as he pulled away from his parents-in-law-to-be, producing a comb from his pocket and vainly attempting to tame his matted hair. He turned to Edward as Lydia rushed to her parents, his black and white suit transforming into a maroon wedding tux.

“Shall we?” The poltergeist offered his arm, and in that moment Edward realized his own clothes had transformed; into a scarlet tux with a black button-down beneath it. An invisible force dragged Edward to Beetlejuice’s side, demanding the two link arms. Thus, they did.

“I called the caterer, we’ve got a great band… ah, we’ll need witnesses!” Beetlejuice assured Edward before controlling Delia’s sculptures, instructing them to hold Lydia and Edward’s parents hostage. The fireplace had turned into an archway, and a strange, wrinkled little spirit stepped out in place of an official. The poltergeist triumphantly walked his mortal fiance over to the official.

“Alright, let’s get on with it.”

“Do you, B-”

“Ah-ah-ah, nobody says the ‘B’ word.”

“Do you take this man as your wedded husband?”

Beetlejuice quickly stepped away, murmuring to himself; “Ohh, it’s a big decision, should I go through with it? I said if I was gonna do it, I was only gonna do it once…”

He then returned to Edward’s side, “Yes, I do, why not.”

“And do you, Edward Deetz, take this man, to be your wedded husband?”

Edward took a breath and put on a brave face, “I do.”

Beetlejuice beamed, though there was a confusion in his brow.

“I thought for sure you’d try and bail…” He muttered in Edward’s ear.

“Unlike you, perhaps, I’m true to my word.”

Barbra looked ready to say the word, but could also see that Edward was serious about his decision. The official cleared their voice.

“Then by the power invested in me-”

“Wait, the ring!” Beetlejuice scrambled to check his pockets, “I-I’ve got it here somewhere, hon!”

Edward’s cheeks tinged pink at such a simple pet name. Hon. How silly he felt that that word in Beetlejuice’s gravelly voice made his heart flutter. Eventually, Beetlejuice retrieved a severed finger from his pocket with a ring still attached.

“I swear she meant nothin’ to me, nothin’!” The poltergeist removed the ring from the bloated finger with some difficulty, then slipped it onto Edward’s hand in an oddly tender manner. Edward glanced back at his family; Lydia, his parents, The Maitlands… his eyes shown with amusement and uncertainty.

“Here I go,” he whispered to them.

“I now pronounce you, husband, and husband,” the official concluded, “You may kiss.”

The two turned to each other.

“No tongue,” Edward ordered before initiating the kiss, something chaste and sweet, and completely unexpected on Beetlejuice’s end. His pale face burned the colour of cherries, and when Edward pulled away, his typical grin had grown ten sizes, it seemed.

“That. Was nice,” he spoke softly, so uncharacteristic of him. Edward avoided his gaze shyly, both of them unaware of the others in the room for the moment. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

#🐞Two Bugs in A Rug🐞#🌻#☔#clownie writes #self shipping #self shipping community #i rewatched this scene to write this and IMAGINING MYSELF THERE... BLUSH CITY #also i think it's really fucking funny how barbra's like 'beetlejuice!' and his first reaction is 'EEEEEEEEEEEE' SGHSGHGSHSG #self insert

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littleshebear · 5 years ago

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Destiny Fanfiction: Truth

Some self-indulgent Dawning-related fluff I wrote last year but never posted for whatever reason. Here’s a dark age, kinderguardian Zavala learning about the power of myth and stories, then teaching those lessons back to a Guardian Sasha.

Crunch!

“What are you doing?”

Crunch!

Zavala trails behind Sasha, watching her bunny-hop through the snow outside the gathering hall. He had recommended they leave when Sasha had reached for her knife after the tenth or so suggestion that they get a room.

“It’s really satisfying,” she replies, jumping onto another patch of virgin snow. Crunch! “You should try it.”

“Is it calming you down?” He cocks his head, smiling at the incongruity of a woman who can snipe three Fallen Vandals in as many seconds, playing in the snow like a child.

She turns to face him, grinning brilliantly. “I wasn’t actually going to stab anyone, you know.” There’s a series of gratifying crunches as she hops towards him. “You worry too much.”

“I’m never sure when you’re joking.” He hazards reaching out and brushing the back of his fingers against her chill-flushed cheek. She doesn’t flinch or pull away, a fact he finds infinitely more pleasing than the sound of freshly-trodden snow. “It’s cold, you should get inside.”

“No,” she protests, taking his hand in hers. “I’m not tired yet. Come on.” She leads him back towards the festivities but eschews the main hall. The normally sterile winter air is alive with the scent of woodsmoke and roasting meat. They weave through the crowds until they reach one of a few braziers dotted around a larger bonfire. There’s a group of people gathered around the open air fires listening to Matushka hold court. Sasha warms her hands over the flames and smiles up at him. “There. I won’t freeze to death, happy now?”

“I just worry.”

“We already established that,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s endearing." He looks sceptical so she adds, "Really.”

He nods towards the old woman. She speaks with a clear, ringing voice, in a language he doesn't understand. “What is she saying?”

“She’s telling stories.” Sasha smiles softly, unmistakable pride creeping into her expression. “Matushka knows them all. We lost so much during the Collapse but alot of our legends made it. The Fallen could burn as many archives as they liked but you can’t burn down an oral tradition. So long as there are storytellers, the stories will survive.”

“Which story is this?”

Sasha takes a moment to translate. “How Lake Baikal came to be. Well, one version of it, there are a few.”

“I thought it was seismic activity?”

“No!" She gives him a playful smack on the arm, before hedging. "Well yes. But no. It's an old, old legend. I’m no Matushka but I’ll do my best. So, Old Man Baikal had three hundred and thirty six sons and one-”

“Busy man, this Baikal.”

“Shh!” She gives him another light tap on the arm. “He had three hundred and thirty six sons and one daughter, Angara. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in the world, so Baikal became jealous and cruel. He locked her away and refused to let her see anyone. She spent her days in loneliness and misery, the birds where her only contact with the outside world.” She paused to listen to Matushka speak for a while, before continuing. “One day, the birds brought her news of a young man named Yenisei who had heard of her plight. The birds carried messages between them and they fell in love.”

“Birds can’t talk.”

“It’s a myth, Luchik, work with me here. Suspend your disbelief.” She sighs to compose herself. “So. Yenisei came to rescue Angara and they managed to escape Westward. When Baikal realised Angara had fled he became enraged. He picked up a massive boulder and threw it at the young lovers to try and stop them.” The lake is shrouded in darkness but she knows exactly in which direction to point. “The Shaman Stone, that’s the rock he threw. It sits at the source of the River…" She expands her palm outwards in a revelatory gesture, "Angara! When Baikal realised he’d lost his daughter he wept and wept until his tears formed the lake.”

Sasha falls silent again and rests her head on his shoulder as she listens to the end of the story. “That’s how Lake Baikal and the Shaman Stone came to be. And that’s why three hundred and thirty six rivers flow into Lake Baikal and only one, the Angara, flows out and merges with the river Yenisei.”

There’s an outbreak of murmurs and discussion from the gathered crowd as Matushka finishes the story. Zavala says nothing for a time, he just gazes into the flames in front of them. “I don’t understand,” he says, eventually.

“What’s not to understand?” Sasha asks.

“Why do you still tell these stories? You know they’re not real. You know that these rivers and lakes happened because of tectonic plates, glaciers and what have you, not a possessive old man’s tears.”

“Just because they’re not real, that doesn’t mean they’re not true.” She need not to look at him to know that his brows are almost certainly knitting into a confused frown. “We don’t tell these stories because we literally believe them. They tell us things about ourselves. There are truths in myth.”

“Very well, I’ll bite,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders. “What’s the truth about an angry old lake spirit throwing rocks at his daughter and her lover?”

Sasha relaxes against him, drawing on his warmth as well as that of the fire. “Well, I think it tells you about what love really is.” Zavala holds his breath, hoping that she can’t feel how much he’s tensed up all of a sudden. “Yenisei loved Angara. He wanted her to be free but Baikal...” Sasha pauses, leaning into the embrace. “Baikal said he loved Angara, he claimed she was the most precious thing in the world to him but. Well, that’s just it. She was a thing to him. He kept her locked up like a jewel in a box. That’s not love. That’s possession. In trying to hold on to her, he lost her. Attachment like that, it’s…” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “It’s not healthy. If you love someone, if you really love them, you have to be willing to let them go.”

Zavala closes his eyes and encircles her with his arms, as if to relieve her of the weight of the words she's just spoken. “You don’t need to do that, Sashenka. I meant what I said.”

She returns the hug, the way her fingers sink into the fur of his jerkin belying her words. “If you need to leave for the Traveler after the thaw, I won’t stop you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He plants a kiss on top of her head that seems to serve as a full stop.

They stand in silence for a while, watching the fire and listening to voices that float over from the main gathering. Sasha eventually interrupts the quiet with a question. Zavala knows she’s trying to change the subject but he’s willing to let her. “Don’t you have stories? The Awoken, I mean. Aren’t there stories in the Reef, creation myths, tall tales?”

“There are, I guess but…” Zavala hedges. He guesses there are but he’s damned if he can remember any of them. “We left. Maybe our stories didn’t have enough truth to them.”

Sasha tips her head back to look up at him. “So make new ones.”

~*~*~*~*

“Zavala!” Izanami flitted around Zavala’s head like a gadfly, nudging his shoulder and purposefully blocking his view of his work. She wove left and right trying to lock his gaze with her optic. “It’s the first night of The Dawning, that’s enough now. You haven’t even looked at the Dawning Crystal, Ikora really outdid herself this year. The night shift is here. Everyone else has left, you’ve got no excuse...”

“The Dawning isn’t going anywhere, The Dawning can wait a few minutes while I finish up.” He replied, gently pushing her out of his way.

“We’re going to be late, Amanda will kill us.”

“First of all, we’re not going to be late and secondly Amanda will not-”

“She’s been working hard on this dinner, if we’re late she will literally kill us.”

Zavala pressed his lips into a thin line. “Literally? Words mean things, Izanami, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” The little AI’s shell was quivering with nervous energy. If he didn’t know that Ghosts didn’t eat, Zavala could swear she was hyped up on too much sugar from Dawning treats. Maybe it was psychosomatic? Could Ghosts pick up on the mood of over-excited humans? No matter, the root cause didn’t change the fact that she was actively delaying him rather than hurrying him along.

“Let’s go!” She pleads, turning in an impatient pirouette.

“The more you pester, the longer this will take. You go on ahead, tell Amanda I will be there in twenty minutes.” He raises an eyebrow for emphasis. “Literally, twenty minutes.”

“Fine.” His ghost turns to leave before abruptly turning back to face him. “But if you’re late and Amanda does kill you? I’m not rezzing you.”

“Thats a risk I shall have to take.” Zavala returned to his work with a wry shake of his head. It wasn’t just dotting i’s and crossing t’s in these missives to the Speaker. For his own peace of mind, he had to be sure the hand over to the Night Shift was properly handled and besides, there were Dawning-specific social niceties to think of. His conscience wouldn’t have allowed him to head off to a celebration without personally thanking each and every one of the staff who had volunteered to work over this festival. It was a selfless act and that was something that spoke to Zavala’s pride in his City like nothing else.

When he finally left, he decided to take a brief detour to take a look at the decorations around the Tower. As the Dawning Crystal hove into view when he ascended the steps to the plaza, he had to admit, Izanami was right. Ikora had outdone herself. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest as he took in the sight of the lanterns strung around the plaza and the snowfall filling in the footprints of raucous guardians armed with snowballs. He turned towards Traveler’s walk; the view from there during winter was always lovely and that area was less likely to be used as a snowball field of conflict. As he suspected, it was far quieter there. It was silent save for the sound of two feet jumping simultaneously into the snow over and over. He followed the sound to see who was making it.

Sashenka. No, he couldn’t call her that, not anymore. Hunter. Guardian. Those were the only appropriate names now. She was leaping, two feet together, from one unsullied patch of snow to another. She would occasionally pause to stamp down the snow into ice before moving on. He shouldn’t be there, he could practically hear his Ghost urging him to leave, telling him what a terrible, terrible idea it was to stay. Yet, there he was. Rooted to the spot, taking in every detail; How beautiful she looked bathed in the combination of lantern and Traveler light, the snowflakes settling on and standing out against her black hair, how similar she was to that woman he fell in love with centuries ago. How very discomfiting it was how often she challenged his assertion that Guardians were not the same people they were before they died.

Sasha did a one-hundred-and-eighty degree turn. Her laugh when she stuck the landing was suddenly cut short when she saw Zavala watching her. She staggered to the side, spoiling the pattern of double footprints she’d left in the snow. She gave an awkward wave.

“Evening, Commander.”

Zavala responded with a respectful nod and crossed over to her. “Hunter. Enjoying your first Dawning?”

She shrugged and nodded a little too vigorously. “Uhm. Yes?”

He frowned at how unconvinced she sounded. “No plans for tonight?”

“My friends are having a party.”

“Your friends.” He held her gaze. “But not you.”

She exhaled slowly and seemed to deflate. “I’m just not feeling it.” The lines on Zavala's forehead deepened, signalling a demand for an explanation. “It’s not a real festival. It’s all made up.”

“Not real?”

“It’s cherry-picked. It’s a hodge-podge of different cultures.” She bowed her head and looked up at him through apologetic eyelashes. “It seems fake to me.”

Zavala brushed some snow off a nearby bench and gestured for her to sit.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked, sinking down, her shoulders hunched up as far as they’ll go.

“No,” he said,settling on the bench beside her. “Just consider the possibility that just because something isn’t real, that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” He paused to let her respond but her only answer was knotted brows, so he continued. “Rites, rituals, festivals. They give structure and meaning to our lives. You don’t have to believe in the reality of the Dawning to believe in the truth of the message behind it.”

“Which is?”

“How did you feel when you were first resurrected?”

“Scared. Lonely, I guess. Doesn’t everyone feel that way at first?”

“At first, yes. Being awoken, alone, without even the memory of who you once were to keep you company is a hard thing to bear. I know I felt adrift, with only my Ghost to keep me right.”

Sasha shook her head ruefully. “It’s hard to imagine you as a confused kinderguardian. You’re so-”

“- Choose your next words carefully,” he deadpanned.

“Stolid.” She grinned up at him, waiting for his reaction.

“All right. That’s an acceptable description.”

“Well I’m relieved, Commander,” she said, through soft laughter. “But what does this have to do with the Dawning?”

He smiled, allowing himself a modicum of pride in the fact that he can still make her laugh, stolid as he is. “I was scared, yes, lonely too but I found people. Made friends, formed connections. The same goes for the refugees who came to the Traveler and founded the City. The collapse was culturally devastating, so much was destroyed; Histories, languages, communities. We lost our stories, we lost those things that teach us about the world we live in. So we salvaged what we could and made new stories. We took what was true, what mattered and made new festivals to preserve them. We survived. We joined together and were stronger for it. We rebuilt. We are the light in the Darkness. That’s the story the Dawning tells. That’s what it’s for. So yes, it’s constructed. Made up, if you will.”

“But it’s true. It's the City's truth. I get it.” She gave him a sly, sidelong glance.“So it’s not just about cookies and presents?”

“Well, no. A big part of the Dawning is about celebrating family and friendship. Cookies and presents help with that, I suppose. So go. Be with your friends. Eat drink, be merry, for tomorrow we fight.”

Sasha rose and vigorously shook her head, theatrically ridding her hair of the snowflakes that had settled there. “Wait.” She smoothed her hair out of her face and looked intently down at him. “You’re by yourself. Do you have somewhere to be? You can’t be spending the Dawning alone, not after that speech you just gave me.”

“I have somewhere to be,” He reassured her as he got to his feet.

“Oh. Well. Good.” She seemed relieved and perhaps a little disappointed too. Zavala couldn’t be sure but he wondered if she’d started forming an invitation in her head. He decided that was just egotistical wishful thinking on his part. It was safer that way.

“Happy Dawning, Guardian,” he said with a respectful nod.

“You too, Commander.” She pivoted her foot as if turning to leave but the rest of her body didn’t follow suit. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“You always know what to say.” She shrugged, as though that were completely obvious.

“I’ve had some very good teachers.”

If Sasha were intimidated by the intensity of his gaze, she didn’t show it. She stared back at him for a not uncomfortable couple of seconds before finally blinking several times and looking away. She drew up her hood with a sheepish smile and a mumbled, “G’night.”

Zavala didn’t move. He watched her make her way down the path, waiting, hoping for her to grace him with another glance in his direction. Amanda Holliday’s amused drawl over his comm unit eventually distracted him from his vigil.

“So your Ghost wanted me to tell you that you’re officially late, Commander.”

“Are you going to kill me? She was at pains to tell me you would literally kill me if I were late.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” she explained. “You’re officially late, not Zavala-late.”

“What is Zavala-late?” he started ambling down the path once Sasha was finally out of sight.

“Half an hour after the official starting time. That lets you squeeze in all those one last, one last things you always have to get done before you leave work. So you’d better get down here before your Ghost has a nervous breakdown.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you soon.” He turned off his comm unit and halted where the path met a patch of snow-covered grass, deciding that he had one last, one last thing to do before he went to dinner. He regarded the pristine, gleaming expanse of white with a serious expression. He glanced around furtively, looking to make sure no one else had entered Traveler’s Walk. When he was sufficiently satisfied that he was alone, he put his feet together and bunny-hopped forwards onto the snow, chuckling softly to himself.

#destiny fanfiction #the dawning #commander zavala #zavala x oc #zavala x female guardian #dark age flashbacks #my writing #oc: sasha #zavala x sasha

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oocstephenkingtv · 5 years ago

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Agent Byron Howard (Maurice Dean Wint) Haven 2x1 A Tale of Two Audreys (2011)

Agent Byron Howard: Audrey Parker.

Audrey Parker: Agent Howard.

Agent Howard: How’s local cop life treating you?

Audrey: Oh, you know. Cats in trees. Like that.

Agent Howard: So are you looking for your job back?

Audrey: No, no. Not really. Actually, I was wondering did anyone call in today, pretending to be me?

Agent Howard: No. Is someone saying she’s you?

Audrey: No, no. It’s just It’s just this town.

Agent Howard: If someone’s impersonating a federal agent...

Audrey: No. Agent Howard, I’m going to deal with it.

Agent Howard: Yes, you will. Till I get there.

Audrey: Agent Howard...

Agent Howard: Detain her till I arrive.

#byron howard #agent howard #maurice dean wint #havensyfy #haven syfy #caps from homeofthenutty #poc in haven #i'll do 1x11 for him tomorrow #i'm busy

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vivithefolle · 6 years ago

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Can you rec some Ronarry fics? (Preferably long ones?) Sorry if I'm annoying you.

You’re not annoying me at all, Anon! :D Thought I’m super frustrated because I’ve read one very long fic that has Ron searching for Harry, who has amnesia and ran away to America (and is gay but nobody knew that) and Ron realizes he’s in love with Harry and the fic has about 30 chapters and it’s on FFN but I can’t find it!! x_x

Sooo… I didn’t find that many long fics but I can give you a long list of them if you want?

Beautiful FriendIt took six years for Harry to learn something in History of Magic.This one. Oh my lord this one… it’s short, but it’s amazing. It’s full of lovely lively details and Harry’s description of Ron is… aaaww.

Life DrawingDean watches, and sees something unexpected.Again, the descriptions! My lord the descriptions, and also you will relate very much to Dean if you’ve ever worked with pencils.

Something They Can Barely SeeHarry has no idea how to tell his best friend he wants more that friendship. He’s pretty sure this would be hell of a lot easier if he knew for sure how Ron felt about him.This one is plenty cute. Ron is adorable and Harry… Harry’s trying his best. :’D

Our Inner BeastsLater, Madam Pomfrey would tell them that both Bill and Ron were going to survive. But she had no idea what the effects of a werewolf bite, when the werewolf was still in human form, could do to their behavior.Okay, who’s up for writing more Creature!Ron fics? Seriously. Someone do some more of those. Here we have Ron as a werewolf, aggressive, feral, self-loathing… doesn’t matter, Harry loves him.

Running with the Wolf, Loving the Mansnapshots of Harry Potter’s life with a werewolf boyfriendFollow-up of Our Inner Beasts. Someone heard our prayers and gave us more Werewolf!Ron, and it’s as wonderful as it sounds.

What HappenedThat’s just the thing, though. He doesn’t know what happened. He can’t pinpoint a single event where everything suddenly made sense. There was no epiphany or choir of angels or aligning of stars, or any of the other rubbish Parvarti goes on about in the Great Hall. There’s no one moment when he realized, “Oh.”Ron and Harry’s friendship, only it’s not just friendship. The last line will make you want to put on some epic music.

Follow The Butterflies“Why did it have to be spiders?” Ron moaned. “Why couldn’t we follow the butterflies?” Harry privately agreed with his best friend, but if there was anything Hogwarts had taught him, then that if he didn’t do something, no one would. “I promise the next time we have to follow anything, it will be butterflies.”Harry and Ron’s friendship again, with more butterflies thrown in the mix. It’s just as perfect as it sounds. If you don’t ship Harry/Ron, this fanfic might just change your mind.

Sonnets of Magical InterferenceHarry receives some strange notes about his love life, or lack thereof.By the end of that fic, you might just cheer for a very controversial character.

HeavenHarry’s heaven includes Ron.Features Ron being emotional over a movie, Chinese takeout, and Harry being a sap. What more could you ask for?

Harry Potter And The World That Went Bloody Insane“I know something you don’t know” is, apparently, the essence of Harry Potter’s love life. Harry’s certain that the world has been reading one too many romance novels, but then, Harry’s always been a bit oblivious.Featuring Protective!Attentive!Caring!Ron and Oblivious!Harry in their stinky flat and everyone shipping Harry/Ron. It’s awesome.

Check MateHarry questions his dreams, Ron has a scary one of his own, Hermione and Cho plot, and Seamus and Dean obsess.Harry’s subconscious has lots of funny ideas. Ron is ridiculously cute. Might be a bit difficult to read because of FFN’s shitty formating for line breaks.

On The OutsideHarry doesn’t think there’s much point to his being gay. He can’t have regular sex, he can’t have children, and he can’t tell his best friend he’s in love with him.Ron is utterly adorable, do I really have to say it? Why, yes, yes I do.

Newton’s LawFor every action, there is an equal and opposite reactionCheck out this author’s other Harry/Ron fics. I especially like Brass Ring; in the meantime, have a rather in-character reaction of Hermione and Ginny finding out about their ex-boyfriends dating. Hey, not my fault if JKR doesn’t know how to write strong female characters without making them abusive.

Sleeping BeautyThe most gen ever retelling of Sleeping Beauty.Who cares if it’s gen, it’s amazing. Harry sleeps, Ron is wonderful, and ants get colorful.

The Complexities Of Muggle MachineryHarry bought a refrigerator. Then it was a microwave. Then a blender. Thursday was the coffee brewer. Ron really liked that last one.Ron is absolutely, heart-stoppingly, adorably cute and pretty much just like I imagine him to be around Muggle things. Harry’s lucky.

After the cupcakesThey never really talked about it but they are each other’s world. And perhaps a lazy Sunday morning is as good a time as any to finally say something.Utterly sappy and fluffy and you know me, I was mostly there for Harry’s description of Ron. It didn’t disappoint.

Sing Your LoveThroughout the years they’ve lived together, Harry has always enjoyed Ron’s singing but lately he’s been picking up hidden messages in his flatmate’s song choices.Do you like Ron singing? Do you like Ron dancing? Do you like Ron crying his heart out over an emotionally oblivious Harry? Well in that case you’ve found the perfect fic!

Snakes & LaddersAfter the final battle with Voldemort, Harry intends to get on with his life. There’s just one problem; he was supposed to have died when he confronted Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest and now the Other Side is trying to collect him. But in the space between his ‘death’ and the victory celebrations, Harry’s fallen in love… and he’s not going to give up his second chance without a fight.A complicated premise, a complicated tale, a very worried Ron, a very determined Harry, an entirely unwelcome Severus Snape coming from beyond the Veil, all leading up to an epic confrontation in the Other Side. Who knew the afterlife had a court?

Now, it’s time for… TEH SMUT! D:Every story below this text will have MATURE CONTENT. Shoo, children, shoo!

Partners (last chapter gets NSFW)What if the girls hadn’t come in just then? What course of action would Harry, in his desperate frame of mind, have latched onto instead?This fanfic made one of my most desperate wishes come true. For those who don’t know me, I’ll just tell you that Cinderella isn’t a matter of gender.

Scars (warning: mentions of self-harm)Ron is embarrassed of his scars, and Harry might be able to help.Ron is his terribly self-loathing self, but at least Harry is there to remind him of what we Ron-lovers know: that he’s loved and beautiful.

The Matchmaker (contains sexual mention)Sir Nicholas has never had a couple like these two…Nearly-Headless Nick ships Harry and Ron. So does the entire Gryffindor House. All in all, just what we need.

Exploring The Spectrum (NSFW at the end)Ron wakes up to find he can only see in a single colour.Very interesting mystery and clever use of a forgotten plot point. The resolution is basically “sex solves everything” but otherwise it’s a great story.

Hug! Hug! Kiss! (second-to-last drabble is NSFW)Ron loses Harry in a foreign land. In other words, Harry accidentally joins a Japanese boy band.This story is ridiculous, confusing, crazy, and absolutely hilarious. No existing celebrities were harmed.

Just Another Teenage Epoch - Ron Weasley, 1999 (NSFW at the end)Ron wants to be an Auror, and he wants to not grow up, and he really wants other people to stop kissing Harry.The classic mistletoe tale! Ron is not amused at all. It’s okay, we’re rooting for him (and Harry is, too).

Trapped in Winter (NSFW at the end)Harry and Ron have an argument. When Ron goes to storm out of the room, he’s frozen in time, and when Harry touches him to see what’s the matter, they’re both transported to a snowy winter wonderland.A surprising premise that leads to a confused, hurt Ron and a tight-lipped Harry, and of course, to Harry/Ron. Pretty nice!

That We Might Be Exactly Like We Were (warning: graphic self-harm, realistic depression, themes of suicide)'Everything just takes me back, to when you were there…’This author pretty much nails what depression is like. She also has several other Harry/Ron fanfics that are written just as expertly as this one, but be forewarned, they tend to deal with very upsetting topics as well. Sadly, I could see her version of Ron existing in the canon we know.

Slow Slide (get out) to a Better Place (warning: abuse and r*pe)Harry told himself that everything was fine in his relationship with Ginny, at least until he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. And by then, he thought it might be too late. Fortunately, he has two very good friends who will always be there for him, one of whom might eventually be something more.Downside: Ginny fans should NOT read this story. Upside: contains Vivi’s most beloved ship, Romione + Ronarry.

Prelude and Fugue (NSFW in the middle)It took over an hour, from the time Harry arrived at work, for him to realise just how different today actually was.The “Groundhog Day” loop is wonderfully done, you can actually feel the weariness building as Harry wakes up and notices it’s still Monday, bloody Monday.And Ron is absolutely adorable - yes, I’ll say it every time!

Princes of Maine (NSFW at the end)Harry wakes one morning to find an abandoned baby on his doorstep. Little does he know that this is only the beginning of his most challenging adventure yet: parenthood.You want Harry as a single parent and not knowing anything about babies? You have it. You want Ron as a competent Healer who’s sick of Harry’s shit and determined to get answers as to why his best mate is a wreck? You have it. You want Harry/Ron? What are you waiting for, dive in!

Still looking for more? Take a look at this post!

#ask #vivi answers #harry x ron #shipping #fanfic recs #hp fanfic recs #fic recs #hp fic recs

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squadron-of-damned · 5 years ago

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⭐ - for the fanfic ask

Yes okay, my pick. that’s the tough part. Hmm… I’d say I’d like to talk about Black Garb, but frankly, I think I have said everything I wanted to say there.

So instead let’s talk about The Long-Awaited Sequel. The name itself is supposed to be a tie-in with the previous work from the Basketville series, because that one is called The Last Chapter, so there is a book theme supposedly going on and also it focuses on the new life Downey and Vetinari have in Basketville, so it is “a brand new book” which everyone has been long waiting for.

Fun fact: Originally the “main hero” whose POV is followed was supposed to be Christian Agate, the renown paperback author who is definitely not the Discworld incarnation of Agatha Christie. While this idea got scratched, the book theme remained just as the concept of Basketville being “the countryside village to which old (male) literary heroes retire to have a cottage, bees and their best companion to whom they aren’t married (but only because it isn’t legal yet).”

Part of the fun with this bodyswap fic was that Vatinari and Downey know each other well enough to actually pull off they are the other person while nobody really knows them enough to notice if there is something wrong. That means that I as an author (and subsequently you as the reader) didn’t have to focus on the “comedy effect” of the bodyswap when they are “this close to being caught,” because let’s serve us clean wine: I don’t like this trope. No, what I wanted to explore was how the physical differences in a body affect the individual.

Let’s start with Downey. In the book Night Watch it is implied that he might have a problem reading long words (although it is possible Vetinari meant that as a very ugly joke) and over the time this implication evolved into a headcanon that he has dyslexia and possibly dysgraphia as well. (I know that they aren’t one and the same, but my two childhood friends have them both and when thinking about one I find it quite difficult not to connect it to the other.) And since you specifically Napoleon are asking this, you are the one who’s assigned that man synethesia as well. I believe that it isn’t addressed in this fic, but originally it was supposed to be and the only reason it isn’t there is because I didn’t figure out a simple way to make AO3 format work with colours.

There is the poem:

This is now all of my wit:to love loud turmoil of the fight,to penetrate girls’ dreams in night,to be in debt a little bit,to whistle as my mouth is shaped,to wash away worry with wine,to squander fast this life of mine,to gain nothing, same to forfeit.

It is my translation of František Gellner’s To je teď celá moudrost moje and in the fic it has scattered bolding and italicizing which is supposed to represent how it is seen through Downey’s eyes. Originally the whole text was heavily colourized, all the alike sounding parts done in the same or similar colours, so it looked like a very bad acid trip. (I was quite angry when the colours didn’t make it in because I spent about an hour colouring that damn thing for nothing.)

Here is the fun part: Why does Vetinari experience these conditions when he is in Downey’s body while he doesn’t get to deal with Downey’s short-fused temper? Because according to some very smart article which I have read and lost and can’t be bothered at the moment to find again, things like dyslexia or introversion tendencies are bound to brain. In fact this article which focused on the fact that people are born either more extroverted or introverted and they can’t do anything about it because it is a physical condition just like the solidness of your bones or blood type is what inspired this particular fic.

Do Vetinari, a known book worm, finds out that there are people who are literally physically incapable to enjoy a book without getting a horrible headache. He also finds out that there are people for whom being around other people is not energetically draining. I can’t remember if he has to deal with Downey’s absolute musical hearing. I think he doesn’t.

Downey on the other hand is mostly reliant on his people skill, on the fact that he is good at being around people and in the only moment that he is supposed to use it (the variation of the PTA gathering), it fails him because of Vetinari’s brain introversion. There is also a minor deal with haywire colourvision which I don’t think I’ve ever bothered to explain. That is a headcanon of mine which doesn’t affect anything and hasn’t got any real backing by the actual lore, but through Vetinari’s eyes Downey can see colours which he previously couldn’t see. The word itself doesn’t get actually used, but Vetinari has tetrachromatic vision instead of the human usual trichromatic one.* Yes, I am aware that the cone cell pigment genes are bound to the X chromosome, thus making tetrachromacy a thing found in the XX 23rd gene combination, but consider: tetrachromacy has actually been found in men, Discworld genetic is strange, magic can apply, no one is saying that Discworld human genes are like ours, no one is saying that Vetinari is cis, also I don’t care because this is a work of fiction not a research paper so if you have a problem with Vetinari having a trait predominately found in human females, it is a you-problem and you have to deal with it somehow (probably by not reading that fic for a start). He also has to deal with chronic pain in leg which I believe Vetinari is more or less used to, but Downey isn’t.

Speaking of chronic pains. Both of those guys have been through some serious shit. Both mentally and physically. In case you haven’t been here for my writing, Downey’s time in Ankh-Morpork during Snapcase’s regime was not a walk in a rosy garden. Or maybe it was a walk in a rosy garden but he was forced to take it through the thorny bushes. He was interrogated, he was tortured for information and there had been at least one attempt to execute him which is implied in the fic. Downey says that he loves Vetinari “Enough for a lack of eloquence to be considered of virtue” just the moment after some very old scars on Downey’s body are mentioned. I don’t know if this reads clearly for you, but it has always been clear to me (and that is why I cannot describe it better): “They tried to physically force me to tell them everything about you and I didn’t say a word.” Until today I am convinced that this particular line is one of the… strongest that I have ever written.

There is a very strong reference to Kafka in this work, namely the very hideous tattoo on Downey’s back which says VerboIncooperativus Testi (verbally uncooperative witness, although the translation is a shared effort of mine and Google Translator, though Discworld Latatin is a bastart language, so whatever). All I can say to that is this: In the Penal Colony.

That brings me to the side characters. Some of them have only a little impact on the story, such as Papermould. Some of them are long time dead like Offer Littlegood to whom I would like to dedicate a short work on his own because he is the Discworld’s constructor of the horrible tattoo-execution machine, which might or might not be clear from what is written about him and implied in other parts of the work. I have a lot of thoughts about Offer Littlegood. I am a loud about being from Czechia, so here is a linguistic joke for you: a rather archaic/fairy-tale sounding euphemism for an executioner (and torturer, stories like to pile these two jobs into one) in Czech is “mistr málodobrý” which translates to English as “mister (or master) littlegood.” That is where Littlegood’s name comes from, to me he is an executioner and torturer by name.

Then there is July Mendahorse. For a starter: I love July Mendahorse. She isn’t pretty and she is the perfect noir femme fatale and she is an important character in The Graveyard Shift. In this story there are featured three people who look a lot like Vetinari: Vetinari himself, Constantin Meserole who is his cousin and a mirror thirty years to the past (he is far mor like Vetinari in his mind than he realizes and he would hate himself a lot if he had ever learned that), and then July Mendahorse (who is actually also a lot like Vetinari, but she lacks the upbringing and education). The opening line about her section is a lowkey reference to the song The House of the Rising Sun (this gets more played on in The Graveyard Shift). When Downey and Vetinari are talking about their exes, Downey recalls briefly dating July (without naming her) who happened to look a lot like Vetinari and speak with his accent. I am not sure if I want to work with it in The Graveyard Shift or give Downey/July their own fic in the original timeline but I want to clear up one thing for you here: Downey actively conditioned July to erase a whole a lot of differences between her and Vetinari. Some of that were good things, like giving her education or taking her to see culture, some of that were… less nice. Not exactly abusive, but… Look, folks, don’t try to forge a girl you’ve found on the street into your unreachable partner of your dreams, alright?

Since we have Vetinari-alike people here, let’s give a paragraph to Constantin Meserole, shall we? If Constanting had a dollar for every time someone called him Havelock, he’d be a very rich man. He looks like Vetinari at that age. He is very actively trying to difference himself from his cousin, but he fails to realize he is doing it in the most Vetinari-like (or Constantin-like) way possible. He is more psychology oriented than Vetinari, but he is also more fed up with his situation. Vetinari’s (and Downey, Sybil and Vimes’s) generation could be compared to those people who were children and teens during the 70′s and 80′s (speaking from a country which used to be a part of the communist block at that time: fucking bloody normalization, so with the Wint/Snapcase’s regime it is twice as accurate), while Constantin (and Lus Twinkle and all their classmates) are those who are growing up right now. They don’t remember that era but they grew up with people telling stories what it was like and they see people actively trying to make history repeat itself and they are feeling like AAARGH! Oh, and Constantin and Twinkle’s relationship is a mirror to Downey and Vetinari’s relationship in the sense “Okay, whit if they weren’t absolute idiots, but only a little bit idiots?”

There are retired fictional characters: Blatantly obvious Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson except they are dwarves now (and are actually both girls), Captain Tramain who is from Wizardry 8 and I’ve always had a soft spot for him. There is aforementioned and not entirely fictional Christian Agate.

There is Helen Foxglove. I have a friend who has just writhed herself out of an abusive marriage. This fic was written before she actually made it and at the time I felt that the most I could do for her aside from coming over every here and then and helping her out was to give her a fictional happy ending. This is that happy ending where she got out with her children and her dogs, and her piece of a shit husband got a dagger through his skull. Maybe some time in the future Helen Foxglove will get together with a witch who might and might not be a version of my mum. Look, I’ve always thought that those two should get together ever since I was, like, four and knew what ‘get together’ was. I’ve always saw her son as a brother, so you know.

I like writing about Basketville but I also find it terribly difficult. Terry Pratchett said that Ankh-Morpork is a fantasy city which still functions after the story ends. In the same way, Basketville is the happy ending retirement countryside village which still functions after the story ends. Everything that happens in Basketville is an epilogue to some story, but it is important to realize that there are people whose whole lives were other people’s epilogues. That is both difficult and amazing to write.

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connor-burrows · 8 years ago

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old white tree by norlies

#sky #contrast #sun #tree #white #snow #dark #lightning #fairy tale #wild #dunkel #schwarzweiss #bezaubernd #Winte

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ljones41 · 6 years ago

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"DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" (1971) Review

"DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" (1971) Review I might as well be frank. After my recent viewing of "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER", I have come to the conclusion that it just might truly be the worst or second worst Bond movie ever released by EON Productions. I certainly view it as an unworthy follow-up to the superb "ON HER MAJESTY’S SECRET SERVICE". Yet, despite my low opinion of the movie, I also found it to be very funny.

The movie’s pre-credits started the movie out with a montage featuring Bond’s search for Ernst Stravos Blofeld, head of SPECTRE and the man responsible for the brutal murder of the agent’s wife of a few hours, Teresa Bond. And yet . . . the movie had never clearly stated that Bond wanted revenge for his wife’s death. Rather curious. I suppose that Broccoli and Saltzman wanted the audience to forget about "ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE" . . . and at the same time, remember that Bond had a reason to seek revenge against Blofeld. The movie eventually unfolded a tale featuring a diamond smuggling operation from South Africa to Amsterdam and finally to Las Vegas. Apparently, the operation seemed to becoming to an end, since two assassins – the very funny Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd, played by Bruce Glover and Putter Smith – seemed to be killing every courier/link that formed the smuggling ring. Her Majesty’s government, worried that the stability of the diamond market might be threatened if all the hoarded diamonds are released at the same time, ordered MI-6 to investigate. M assigned Bond to investigate the matter. At first, the British agent (along with diamond smuggler Tiffany Case, Felix Leiter and the CIA) discovered that a reclusive American millionaire named Willard Whyte might be behind the smuggling operation and the murders. But this proves to be a red herring and Bond finally realized that Blofeld (whom he thought he had killed in the pre-credit sequence) had taken control of Whyte’s business operation to use the diamonds to create a satellite with a powerful laser on board in order to blackmail the world. And of course, Bond destroyed Blofeld’s operation before the villain could blow up Washington D.C. What is it about "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" that made it such a terrible Bond movie? One of the main culprits had to be Richard Maibaum and Tom Mankiewicz’s screenplay. Their first mistake came in the form of Bond’s search for Ernst Stravo Blofeld in the movie’s pre-credit sequence. It all seemed so vague . . . almost pointless. In fact, it seemed as if the screenwriters and producers Cubby Broccoli and Harry Saltzman had been torn between a desire to make fans forget about "ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE"’s tragic ending and a fear that those same fans might not forget. Which would explain why the movie’s opening found Bond traveling from one location to another in search of Blofeld. He even managed to nearly strangle one contact with her bikini top, titillating certain fans of the franchise. Yet, not once did Bond ever mention his late bride or her murder – obviously the main reason behind his search for SPECTRE’s leader. I could not help but conclude that the entire sequence was nothing but a cop-out. And the story had failed to improve following the opening credits. I never could understand why Her Majesty’s government had deemed it necessary for MI-6 to investigate a diamond smuggling operation. Why not seek the assistance of an agency like Interpol or something? And why would the CIA be interested in such a case? Both MI-6 and CIA’s interest all came about before the revelation of Blofeld using the diamonds to create a weapon to extort the major superpowers. And I never could understand this. Bond’s investigation took him to Amsterdam, impersonating one of the links in the smuggling operation – Peter Franks. From this point forward, a serious of implausible moments appeared in the story. After a fight with the real Peter Franks, who had appeared at Tiffany Case’s Amsterdam apartment, Bond planted his own wallet in the dead smuggler’s jacket. Tiffany discovered the wallet and expressed dismay at the idea of someone killing 'James Bond'. Could someone please explain how a diamond smuggler would know about a MI-6 government agent, yet have no knowledge of Blofeld or the fact that he had been her actual boss? And there are more implausible moments to follow: -After Mr. Slumber prevented Bond from being incinerated, Bond accused him and Shady Tree of giving him bad money (they saved him, because he had switched the real diamonds for fakes). Yet, he pocketed the ’bad money’and used it at one of the Vegas hotel/casinos. -Bond and Tiffany found dead prostitute Plenty O’Toole in the latter’s Vegas swimming pool. Apparently, there had been a scene in which Plenty (who had been dumped out of Bond’s hotel room and into a swimming pool by gangsters working for Tiffany) had returned to Bond’s room and found Tiffany’s purse. If this is true, I can see why this scene had been cut, because it lacked sense. But why had EON Productions failed to cut the scene featuring the discovery of Plenty’s body, as well? -The stunt featuring Bond’s two-wheeler driving of Tiffany’s Red Mustang through a narrow alley seemed . . . questionable. -Why on earth did Bond bother to wear a tuxedo in order to break into Willard Whyte’s penthouse? -Since Blofeld had left instructions to Bond (impersonating as SPECTRE minion, Burt Saxby’s voice) over the telephone to kill Willard Whyte, how did Saxby learn of the assignment in order to appear at Whyte’s house to do the job? -Why would Tiffany be suspicious of a Blofeld in drag and tail him, when she never knew how he looked in the first place? And I doubt that she knew about the cat. "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER"’s script had ended in a rather disappointing showdown on a SPECTRE-controlled oil rig off Baja California. Come to think of it, Blofeld’s "death" and Bond’s showdown with Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd seemed equally lame. The movie had also marked Sean Connery’s last appearance as the agent in an EON Productions’ Bond film. He returned following George Lazenby’s decision not to continue with the Bond role. Granted, Connery’s performance had its moments. He seemed to be at his funniest in this movie, displaying a true flair for comedy. And his elevator fight with Joe Robinson (portraying Peter Franks0 made it apparent that he had not lost his touch with action films, following a four-year hiatus from the Bond franchise. And yet . . . I could not help but wish that Lazenby had continued his tenure as James Bond, following "ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE". Perhaps the Australian’s presence could have guaranteed a more serious follow-up to Tracy Bond’s death. Then again . . . perhaps not. And despite Connery’s comedic touch, he seemed to have lost some of the fire that had made his earlier performances as Bond so memorable. In fact, he seemed to have sailed through the entire movie without any true depth. There seemed to be a split opinion amongst fans regarding Jill St. John’s performance as smuggler Tiffany Case. Some viewed the red-haired Tiffany as a funny, smart and sassy woman. Others regarded her as nothing more than a bubble-headed bimbo. Personally, I agree with both views. I liked St. John’s sharp portrayal of Tiffany in the movie’s first hour or so. She portrayed the smuggler as a sharp-tongued woman who was shrewd enough to keep Bond’s paws off of her, until she needed him for her advantage. And she helped Bond infiltrate Willard Whyte’s desert laboratory. But once Blofeld was revealed to be alive, Tiffany became this idiot bimbo who allowed herself to get caught by Blofeld; and who helped Bond on the oil rig and later against Wint and Kidd with great ineptitude. Her character seemed to have lost its steam by the movie’s last half-hour. Charles Gray, who had been last seen as a murdered MI-6 agent in "YOU ONLY LIVE TWICE", became the third actor to portray SPECTRE leader Ernst Blofeld on screen. I have to give points to the British actor for being the wittiest villain in the franchise’s history. Although he had spent most of his on-screen time in the movie’s second half, more witticism streamed out of Gray’s mouth than any other actor or actress. And as funny as he was, this abundance of witticism had also lessened his impact as a villain, I am sorry to say. This seemed rather odd for an actor like Gray, who has proven to be more intimidating in other roles. "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER"’s supporting cast had seemed at best, a mixed blessing. Not many Bond fans have been impressed by Norman Burton’s gruff performance as CIA agent Felix Leiter. Frankly, I found his gruffness rather amusing and witty . . . in a deliciously acidic way. Speaking of gruffness, Bernard Lee seemed downright acerbic and hostile during his brief appearance as M. Neither Lois Maxwell and Desmond Llewellyn as Moneypenny and Q, respectively, came off as memorable in this movie. Marc Lawrence and Sig Haig had portrayed two of the gangsters who popped up during Bond’s first day in Las Vegas. Unfortunately, they came off as movie gangsters from a 30s crime melodrama, instead of modern day thugs. Donna Garratt and Trina Parks portrayed Willard Whyte’s bodyguards, Bambi and Thumper. I must admit that they were memorable, although Ms. Parks had struck me as a bit of a drama queen. Lana Wood (Natalie Wood’s younger sister) portrayed the unfortunate Plenty O’Toole. And honestly? I now feel that Ms. Wood was one of THE WORST actresses to appear in a Bond movie. Okay, make that the second worst. I consider the actress who had dubbed Marguerite Le Wars’ voice (the actress who played the photographer in "DR. NO") to be the worst. Speaking of bad acting, who on earth had the bright idea to cast Country-Western singer, Jimmy Dean, as Willard Whyte? No wonder he had never pursued a movie career. Dean must have been the biggest ham in the movie, considering his tendency to bellow nearly every word that came out of his mouth. Hollywood star Bruce Cabot ("KING KONG" [1933]) seemed like a waste of time in his role as Blofeld minion, Burt Saxby. What a shame, especially since "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" was his last film. The movie’s bright spot came in the forms of Bruce Glover and Putter Smith as Blofeld’s assassins, Mr. Wint and Mr. Kidd. Glover and Smith portrayed these two hitmen (and possible lovers?) with wit, style and a delicious touch of menace. It seemed a shame that they were killed off in one of the lamest action sequences of any Bond film. I am trying to think of a Bond movie directed by Guy Hamilton that has really impressed me. So far, I cannot think of one."DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" is certainly not that movie. Granted, it has its bright points – the witty humor, a sassy Tiffany Case in the film’s first half, a great fight scene between Connery and Robinson; along with Bruce Glover and Putter Smith. I would also like to add that I also enjoyed the film’s musical score by John Barry and the theme song, performed by Shirley Bassey. Granted, the song lacked the excitement and brashness of "GOLDFINGER" and the lyrical beauty of "MOONRAKER", but I still managed to enjoy it. But considering some of the second-rate performances found in this movie, along with poor editing and piss poor writing by Maibaum and Mankiewicz, "DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER" strikes me as being the complete nadir of the Bond franchise. And that is saying something about a movie that I still enjoy watching . . . much to my continuing surprise.

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